


“The way I feel when I’m with you…”

by AutisticWriter



Series: Super Sappy Line Prompts [13]
Category: Deadman Wonderland
Genre: Age Difference, Amputation, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Awkwardness, Bickering, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, Concern, Dark, Explicit Language, Fainting, Fights, First Kiss, Gore, Heavy Angst, Injury Recovery, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Torture, One Shot, Pain, Physical Disability, Power Imbalance, Prompt Fic, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, Surgery, Swearing, Vomiting, Worry, carnival corpse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: When you live in G Block, showing affection towards another inmate will always end badly, for the promoter loves to pit people who care for each other against each other in Carnival Corpse. This explains why Ganta ends up fighting against Senji, the man he has feelings for. But how can he win the fight when beating Senji will end in Senji’s death or serious injury?[Prompt 13: “The way I feel when I’m with you…”]





	“The way I feel when I’m with you…”

Igarashi Ganta stumbles as the cage is lowered, not any more used to this. Will he ever get used to this? Will the bubbling terror of Carnival Corpse ever go away? He’s more prepared this time (after having to bite himself to draw blood, Ganta has brought a small knife with him), but he doesn’t know how to cope mentally.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the unseen announcer calls in English, and Ganta almost falls when his cage hits the ground. “Welcome to another Carnival Corpse!”

The other cage lowers, and Ganta doesn’t look. He doesn’t want to look. But he knows. He knows who he must face. And of all the people in this shithole, why does he have to be up against Senji?

This isn’t right. There are many other Deadmen, so why is he being made to fight Senji again? Has this all… Has that cunt of a promoter fixed this?

This can’t be happening.

The cages open and he has to step out. Senji does the same, his usual sneer more like a grimace.

This _is_ happening.      

He was right, wasn’t he? Did Tamaki realise he and Senji are friends and Ganta might have a bit of a crush on him? Did he set this up just to see mental suffering as well as physical? Did the bastard really…

Neither of them says a thing, and Ganta trembles. Whether platonically or otherwise, he loves Senji. Their first fight was bad enough, but they now expect him to fight the man he loves?

“Begin!”

The moment the start of the battle is signalled, Senji pops the spikes on his thumb rings and slashes his forearms open. Blood sprays from his wounds, but soon warps and hovers around Senji like tentacles. And, with a grin, he produces his famous blades.

“You better put up a fight even better than last time, Ganta,” Senji says, pointing to his eye patch. And he lunges forwards.

Ganta hurtles away, fumbling for his knife. He dodges slashes from the blades, one nicking the back of his neck and stinging as blood bubbles from the gash. Wincing, Ganta manages to slice a shallow cut across the palm of his hand, gritting his teeth to stop himself crying out from the pain.

“Come on, fight back!” Senji growls.

The blood on his hand starts to warp, manipulated by his Branch of Sin. It forms a ball of blood that hovers in the palm of his hand, and Ganta breathes slowly. And even though this is the last person he wants to fight, Ganta sends a projectile soaring towards Senji.

Senji dodges easily, droplets of blood falling to the floor. “Gotta try harder than that!”

How can he put the energy needed into this? If he does his best and wins, Senji will either be dead or have to go through losing another body part. If he loses, he will die in this horrible place. How is he meant to choose?

Ganta grits his teeth, shooting another projectile. This one gets close, but Senji grins and slices it in two with one of his blades.

“Getting closer!”

His head throbbing, Ganta turns to run away. If he hides behind one of the fake trees, he has longer to think of a plan. But as he turns, a red blade swings and collides with his back. It slices a deep gash across his shoulder blades and Ganta screams, toppling onto his knees as blood runs down his back.

He rolls onto his backside and shuffles backwards, smearing blood all over the floor. Senji walks closer and stands over him, smirking. Right now, Senji could stab him through the heart with a blade and kill him. But he doesn’t. Just like Ganta wouldn’t kill him.

“Get up, Woodpecker,” Senji says.

But he can’t. Blood pours from the gash across his back, soaking his torn clothes and pooling on the floor. The pain almost makes him puke, and his vision starts to flicker.

He remembers this! It’s blood loss.

Shit, what should he do?

Senji steps closer and extends his arm towards Ganta. He expects a blade to press against his throat, but that doesn’t happen. The red knife of blood still sticking out of his forearm, Senji… holds out his hand.

Ganta stares at him, his hearing starting to crackle. “H-Huh?”

“Get up. I want a real fight. Killing a guy when he’s down doesn’t count. Even if I have to help you to your feet first, I want you to fight me. So come on, take my hand.”

Senji stands there, hand held out towards him. He really means that, right? He must remember how Ganta dragged himself back to his feet using Senji’s jacket during their first fight. He doesn’t want to kill Ganta, or for the fight to end like this. He wants one of them to go out with a bang just like last time – even if the one who goes down is Senji.

Now this… this is exactly why Ganta idolises Senji so much. He doesn’t just kill his opponents when they are down. He wants a fair fight.

“O-Okay,” Ganta mumbles, head pounding.

He raises his arm from the ground, finding his sleeve stained red with blood, and bites back a cry of agony at the strain moving his shoulder puts on his injured back. But he keeps moving his arm, and his bloody fingers graze Senji’s hand. Senji smirks and grasps his hand, and tugs hard.

To Ganta’s amazement, Senji’s superior strength propels him into the air and has him on his feet in an instant. When Ganta’s legs wobble, Senji holds him in place, staring down at him.

“Ready?” he says.

“Uh-huh,” Ganta mumbles, not trusting himself to nod.

Senji lets go and takes several steps backwards, before holding his arms up in a defensive stance. “Good. Now let’s get the fuck on with it, Ganta!”

Ganta blinks slowly, his vision going black around the edges. “Sure,” he slurs, not even sure what he’s doing anymore.

All he really knows is he’s got a gaping wound across his back and blood running so far down his clothes that the backs of his thighs are soaked in blood and it hurts more than he thought possible. The only time he’s felt pain worse than this was that awful fucking day, when the Red Man…

Ganta inhales as deeply as he can, manipulating the blood that coats his hand again. But he can’t get the projectile as big as last time (is this because of the blood loss too?), and his knees start to sag.

He has to do something. He has to fight back. Senji wants a real fight, and he wants to spite all the evil fuckers watching this shit. He has to beat the man he loves, despite being close to fainting.

But how?

There’s no way he can win this. He can barely stand up, and Senji will only wait so long before getting bored, cutting him again and watching Ganta faint from the blood loss. He… he can’t do this.

Ganta shoots the tiny ball of blood at Senji, and it doesn’t even reach him, splattering against the floor between them.

Senji laughs. “Come on, I want a fight like last time. You were even worse than this, but managed to get me. I want to see that again!”

“I know!” Ganta screams, his voice cracking. “I’m fucking trying!”

He’s certain the viewers of this are laughing at him right now, but he couldn’t give less of a shit.

Ganta gasps for breath, every heave tugging at the open edges of his wound, and he retches.

What the fuck can he do?

He fires another Ganta Gun at Senji, managing to hit him this time, but not hard enough to even make Senji flinch.

“Better.”

And then it comes to him. When you’re massively outmatched, the only way you can often find to win is… playing dirty. It’s not the best idea, but tricking Senji, who clearly cares about him, is the best thing he can think of when this injured.

So Ganta lets himself fall. He stops fighting his wobbling knees and lets them buckle, and lurches to the floor. He topples backwards and sprawls on his back, crying out at the pressure on his injury. Black spots pattern his vision, and Ganta gasps. He has to stay conscious.

“Hey, Woodpecker, you’re not giving up, are you?” Senji says, walking over.

Good. Ganta knew that would happen.

Heaving for breath, Ganta gets back onto his knees and hunches forwards like he’s about to be sick.

“Seriously, is this all you’ve got?” Senji says, and, as he talks, Ganta holds a hand between his thighs and lets his Branch of Sin start manipulating the blood oozing from his palm. “Come on, Ganta. Fight back!”

Ganta grits his teeth and stares up at Senji. He has his hands by his sides, abdomen exposed. Good.

He leans backwards and lets himself wobble, and Senji steps closer, clearly not wanting Ganta to smash his head in and throw the match that easily.

Perfect.

As quickly as he can, Ganta thrusts his palm upwards, and, crying out in pain, shoots a projectile at Senji’s abdomen.

Senji staggers backwards, reeling, and his arms go up in the air in an attempt to keep his balance.

Perfect.

Ganta fires another, and this one soars towards Senji, passes the blades he tries to block it with, and collides with his forehead.

It’s not the hardest Ganta Gun he has ever fired by a long stretch, but shots to the head always work the best.

The force knocks Senji backwards, and his eyes are shut before he hits the ground. And then he lies there, Ganta’s blood all over his forehead, totally unconscious.

Did… that really just happen?

Ganta blinks and retches again, bracing a hand against the floor to keep himself on his knees.

“Aaaand, the winner of this Carnival Corpse,” the announcer yells, his voice ringing in Ganta’s ears. “Is Woodpecker!”

His vision flickers, his hearing crackles like he’s watching a Youtube video with shitty audio quality, and the ground seems to wobble beneath him.

Before the medics even have a chance to arrive on the scene, Ganta’s eyes drift closed. He faints before hitting the ground, lost in pain and disorientation.

\---

Ganta awakes slowly, pain pulsing through him. He finds himself on his bed, an assortment of prizes on the floor beside him. He lays awkwardly on his side, stitches and dressings making the skin on his back horribly tight and itchy. His brain is foggy with pain and fatigue, but Ganta starts to remember everything that happened. The fight against Senji… seeing Senji collapse and the announcer yell about how Ganta had won… and the blood loss overwhelming him and fainting soon after. And waking up in his room like this reminds him of the last time he won Carnival Corpse.

And then he sits bolt upright, ignoring the jolt of pain, and almost falls out of bed. He won, and Senji lost. Which means Senji will have to play the penalty game. Memories of Senji getting his eye ripped out makes vomit burn the back of his throat, but he manages not to puke.

He wants to run and stop the bastards doing this to the man he cares about, but when that horribly familiar music starts blaring from the TV, he freezes in place. He wants to run, but he can’t move.

“And now it’s time for the Too Bad for the Loser Show!”

Ganta just lies there, frozen in place. He screws his eyes up, but he hears sounds onscreen, and then that sadistic doctor’s voice.

“Left hand. Excellent.”

Ganta doesn’t open his eyes, but he hears it. He hears everything. Medical instruments clinking together. The doctor laughing softly like she’s getting off on this. Senji grumbling something like, “Just get on with it.”

When he hears that, Ganta clenches his jaw. Of course, Senji will be conscious through all of this, just like last time.

His eyes snap open as the doctor picks up a scalpel. She hovers it over Senji’s wrist (his skin a weird colour from medical disinfectant). Watching will make him puke, but now he’s looking, he can’t stop staring.

The scalpel slices through his skin, a neat line around the circumference of his wrist. Senji winces, gritting his jaw as blood trickles down his wrist. She cuts again, exposing fat and muscle as she gouges deeper into his flesh. Again, Senji winces, screwing up his eye. On an impulse, Ganta grasps his left hand to his chest, vomit rising in his throat.

Blood pours down Senji’s hand, and the doctor puts the bloody scalpel down on the tray. Ganta can hear Senji’s breathing shuddering, knowing his friend wants to scream but is trying not to give the doctor the satisfaction. She picks up a new instrument, one with a thin metal tool on one end and a wire extending from the other.

When she presses the tip against his exposed flesh, it hisses. Senji finally screams, a cracking noise escaping his throat as he roars in agony, and when Ganta realises this thing is cauterising his flesh, the vomit rushes into his mouth.

This is horrific. This is evil. Why does this have to happen to them all? What did they do to deserve this?

Ganta’s mouth burns, his heart pounding, and he tries to swallow the vomit in his mouth. But he can’t; he needs to throw up. Desperately trying to ignore the sounds of Senji having his hand amputated, Ganta gets out of bed. But his aching legs give way and he falls to the floor. Scared and exhausted and incredibly nauseated, Ganta crawls to the bathroom, vomit seeping between his lips.

He collapses in front of the toilet and throws up, hacking up vomit despite there being little in his stomach. His eyes and nose stream and saliva runs down his chin, his retches echoing around the room.

And when he is left only coughing, Ganta’s vision starts to crackle, black spots appearing in his vision. The world seems hazy and his heartbeat goes faster and faster and all he can hear is Senji’s scream of agony and…

Ganta blacks out, his head smacking against the toilet seat before hitting the bathroom floor with a thud.

\---

Ganta comes around slowly, and he knows where he is without even opening his eyes. He’s back on his bed, scratchy sheets beneath him. When he finally opens his eyes, he confirms this. But how did he get here? He fainted in the bathroom, right? So did… one of his fellow Deadmen move him here?

Any further thoughts about how he got here are wiped from his mind when Ganta remembers why he was in the bathroom in the first place. He remembers puking his guts up after seeing the penalty game—

The penalty game! He saw that doctor amputate Senji’s left hand. He saw…

Nausea churns in his stomach, but he doesn’t puke. He probably doesn’t have anything else to throw up.

He sits up slowly, easing his aching frame upright, and his forehead throbs. Ganta winces, touching his forehead with trembling fingers – and finds a large lump that hurts like fuck when he prods it. Did he get this bruise when he banged his head on the toilet seat?

Once he no longer feels like he might faint, Ganta grabs the water bottle that has been left beside his bed, and gulps down half the bottle in one go. He finds some pills too, two capsules of a strong painkiller, and swallows them too. It probably won’t help, but it won’t make him worse either.

Ganta eases his legs over the side of the bed, trying to catch his breath. He needs to see Senji. He has to see how he is doing after that horrific surgery.

He… needs to say sorry for tricking him like that.

He gets to his feet, bracing the backs of his legs against the end of his bed to stop himself stumbling, and Ganta hopes he won’t faint again. It takes a few seconds to get his balance, and once he can stand without assistance, Ganta begins a slow trek to find Senji.

In the real world, a person who had their hand amputated less than a few hours ago would still be in the infirmary. But not in this hellhole. No, here you leave the moment you’ve woken up or can answer a few basic questions, getting kicked out to recover in your own room. Ganta saw it with Senji last time, and although it’s fucked up to deny an injured person help once you’ve stopped them bleeding to death, it makes perfect sense in this place.

So even though Senji should still be in the infirmary, Ganta would bet all his Cast Points that Senji is back in his room. After all, Ganta’s wound is incredibly deep and he clearly got discharged as soon as it was stitched up. Honestly, fuck this place.

Ignoring the looks he gets from the others, Ganta stumbles through the hallways of G Block. It’s hard to pick his feet up and his anaemia isn’t going to go away for a while, and he kind of feels like he might faint the moment he stands still. But he carries on.

After what feels like forever, Ganta reaches the door to Senji’s room. He knocks with his non-injured hand, leaning too heavily against the door.

“What?” Senji grunts, and Ganta opens the door.

He pokes his head into the room, and stares.

Senji lies on his back in bed, his face clammy and a nasty bruise in the centre of his forehead (that must be where Ganta hit him). But he doesn’t really pay attention to that, his eyes trailing down Senji’s body (trying to ignore the small bruise on his stomach and his toned abs – because now really isn’t the fucking time to be admiring Senji’s fit body) until he reaches Senji’s left hand. Or, to be more specific, the place his left hand used to be.

His stump is covered in dressings, bandages wrapping halfway up his forearm, and Ganta can see specks of red on his dressings where blood is starting to soak through them. His forearm and stump rest propped up on a pillow, and Ganta can’t take his eyes from it.

Ganta is used to seeing people missing body parts in this place, but it always hits him hard. Not because they’re disabled, but because they had their eyes or hands or legs torn from their bodies whilst wide awake. The end result isn’t what horrifies him (because being disabled isn’t a bad thing, although it is very hard to cope with when it first happens), but what happened to cause it.

“Hey, Ganta,” Senji mutters, closing his eyes again.

“Hey, Senji. Is it okay if I stay?”

Senji grunts in approval, and Ganta takes the chance to move closer. He hovers a couple of feet from the bed, staring at the scar running across his palm from where he cut himself.

“Um… Senji, I…”

“Whatever you wanna say, spit it out.”

Ganta nods, only for his vision to crackle. “Uh… I just wanted to say… I’m sorry.”

Senji sighs. “I’ve already told you. You don’t need to apologise for sending your opponent into the penalty game. This shit’s normal in this place.”

“I know that,” Ganta says. “I fucking know, Senji. But… I’m sorry. I was underhanded in there, and you ended up in the operating chair instead of me.”

“Yeah, I know now you were leading me on, but at the time, I didn’t have a clue,” Senji says. “Tricked me good. You saw I was being too soft for my own good and took advantage. Fighting dirty’s always a good way to win.”

“I, I know that,” he says, repeating himself. “But…” Ganta sighs. “Fine, I’ll stop apologising for causing your hand to get ripped off your body.”

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me, kid—”

“Stop calling me a kid! And I’m allowed to be pissy!” Ganta snaps. “I nearly died and then had to watch you…”

“You watched it?” Senji says.

“Of course I did!”

“Idiot.”

“Shut up! How could I not watch it?!”

Senji sighs again. “Okay, okay, I get it. How’d you get that bruise?”

Ganta’s fingers go to his bruise without thinking about it, and he bites back a wince. “Watching your penalty game made me puke, and I fainted in the bathroom and hit my head on the toilet.”

A third sigh. “Seriously, what am I going to do with you?”

“Oh shut up,” Ganta snaps, but he’s not as pissed off anymore. “And while we’re talking about all this, why were you going soft on me? You could’ve killed me several times. And don’t give me a lie about not killing in Carnival Corpse, coz I know you’ve killed before.”

Senji makes a noise that’s probably supposed to be a chuckle. “I dunno. I’ve killed before, but I didn’t wanna kill you.”

“Why though?”

“Again, I dunno, really,” Senji says. “Just… seems like a waste of a good person.”

“A good person? You do realise I’m on fucking death row?!”

“Yeah, for a crime you clearly didn’t do, you idiot. Half of us in here are totally innocent and just got framed coz that asshole wanted all of us Deadmen in one place. Being here means nothing. You… you actually give a shit about your opponents. That makes you good. And it makes a fucking change around here.”

“Senji,” Ganta says, not sure what to say. “Thank you.”

Senji scoffs. “Yeah, whatever. The pain must be making me sappy. But to be serious for a moment, you realise this fight was all your fault, right?”

“What?!” Ganta says, stepping closer.

“Obvious if you think about it,” Senji says. “You’ve been hanging around me ever since our first fight, and people notice. You know what happened to Nagi and his wife, don’t you?”

He actually hasn’t, but, judging by Nagi’s scar and how miserable he looks, it seems pretty obvious what happened to him. “Um, yeah. “

So he was right. The promoter really did notice Ganta cares for Senji and made them fight to fuck him up. He really is as evil as Ganta thought.

Ganta sighs. “Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s happened a lot around here. That’s why we’re all not really friendly with each other, coz Tamaki would notice if we acted too close and then make us fight. It’s just what happens.”

“Still, my stupidity got you hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.”

Ganta sighs. “It’s just… you’re the only person I really trust, Senji. I know a lot of people, but we’re either just strangers or they’ve betrayed me. But… I trust you. “The way I feel when I’m with you… I actually feel safe around you. Other than Shiro, you’re the only person who makes me smile. And because I can’t stop following you around like a fucking idiot, this all happened! Fucking hell, I…”

His breath catches in his throat, and Ganta processes his words. That… didn’t sound too obvious, did it? He didn’t let his crush known, did he? He hopes not.

Senji chuckles. “I get it.” He twitches his right hand, beckoning Ganta closer. “I… kinda know what you mean. Before you arrived, I didn’t really feel protective of anyone. But since that fight… that’s why I went soft on you. I don’t like the thought of people hurting you. And that includes me. Get it?”

Ganta nods, some heat appearing on his pale cheeks. “I get it. I, I…”

“You’ve got some kind of crush on me, right?” Senji says.

“Huh?” he splutters, wondering if he’s about to get murdered. How did Senji work it out?

“That’s why you’re blushing.” He chuckles. “I knew it. You’re such a brat.”

“Oh fuck off,” Ganta says, some of the terror in his abdomen dissolving away. “Don’t call me that, old man.”

Senji closes his eyes, exhaling deeply. “If you wanna kiss me, go ahead.”

“What?” Ganta says, his face getting redder.

“Definitely unhealthy and probably illegal, but you can kiss me if you want. Whether I reciprocate or not, they’re gonna keep making us fight as long as you’re crushing on me. So… let me just say I’m not opposed to kissing you. Not fucking, though.”

Ganta blinks, the thought of being fucked by Senji making his stomach flip. But being stuck in Deadman Wonderland has made his teenage libido plummet, so he doesn’t get hard or anything embarrassing like that. But, maybe, if he was older and they weren’t in this place…

“That’s fair. So, you r-really mean it?”

“Yeah, whatever. Just get on with it already. I’m fucking exhausted.”

His heart pounding, Ganta steps closer. Senji is right about this being very weird, but considering he’s old enough to be tried as an adult and put on death row and being forced to fight to the death, Ganta considers himself old enough to kiss an adult. Yeah, it’s morally ambiguous, but who gives a shit?

“Senji, I—”

“If you say sorry again, I’ll punch you,” Senji mutters.

Ganta smiles slightly. He moves closer to Senji and braces his hands against the edge of the bed, his vision flickering again. And, carefully, he kisses Senji on his torn lips with his own equally torn ones. It’s a rather short, pathetic kiss, but it’s all Ganta can manage without feeling like he might faint.

“Thank you.”

Senji yawns, the painkillers making him groggy. “Yeah, yeah. Stay if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you look like you’re gonna faint if you stand up for much longer.”

“That’s probably right,” Ganta says, touching his lips. “Um… can I get on the bed with you?”

“Why not?” Senji mumbles. “Just don’t jog my arm.”

Ganta smiles. Thankfully, Senji’s injured arm is on the other side, so as he climbs into bed beside him, he doesn’t have to worry about kicking his stump. Still, he moves carefully and slowly, eventually settling on his side, facing the side of Senji’s head.

“You all good?”

“Yeah. thanks for this.”

“Whatever. Now go the fuck to sleep. We both need it to heal.”

Ganta’s smile widens. Somehow, just lying here beside Senji is enough to help push all the terrifying thoughts and pain to the back of his mind.

And so, even though not night time and he’s in pain and still reeling from the kiss, Ganta closes his eyes and tries to settle down to sleep. He knows he’ll probably have horrific dreams, but at least he’ll have Senji by his side.

Eventually, he drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want me to write you a short fic, drop in a prompt at my [personal prompt meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AutisticWriters_Personal_Prompt_Meme)!


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